Lobby of the First Bank of Jericho. “You sure about this?” “Trust me.” Dean strolls up to the counter. He flashes a tight smile and wonders if teller Megan would be so good as to break this $100. As long as she has the drawer open, she can just hand over ALL OF THE MONIES. Dean pulls a MAC-10 out of his coat and sprays the ceiling. Standing by the locked front door, Sam answers fire. They herd the terrified employees and customers into the vault. Dean looks up and winks at the security camera and then he and Sam empty their clips into the crowd. When the screaming stops they survey their work and deem it good.

In Montana, Bobby is working his way through every possible Leviathan killing combination he can come up with – “greatest hits, B-sides, and deep cuts.” He injects a bound Chet with black Leviathan goo. “Oaky. Similar finish to holy water, not as bitter as rock salt.” Chet sasses that he’s not afraid of them because he can’t be killed. And he’s the least of their concerns. They should turn on the news. The Winchesters are now the subjects of a manhunt throughout the state of California. The boys wonder how the Leviathans managed to “Xerox” them and Chet helpfuls the answer from the basement. It’s not that hard to lift some DNA out of a motel shower drain. Gross, but not hard. Sam theorizes that the plan is to squeeze them by turning them into the most wanted men in America. No point in hiding then. The Leviathans may be smarter and indestructible, but “they’re wearing our faces, Bobby. This is personal.” Sam agrees.

“If you’re gonna be stupid, you might as well be smart about it.”

Bobby pulls out his demonic day planner and jots down a name and address. They need to see Frank Devereaux. “He’s a jackass and a lunatic” (and a very capable first mate), but he owes Bobby one. Bobby will stay back and keep working on Chet. “See if I can figure out what makes him die.”

“You bleed. You can die.”

It’s slow going, although beheading seems to hold some promise. At least it shuts Chet up. The evening takes a turn for the awesome with Sheriff Mills shows up with dinner and a six-pack of beer. Yay! Sheriff Mills! The whole ‘using her super special cop skills to track him down and thank him for saving her life and make sure he’s okay because his house just burned down’ thing is a little contrived, but who cares?! Sheriff Mills! Longest running kick ass female who isn’t dead! Yay! I’m happy to let her be nice to Bobby for 5 minutes. He’s earned it.

After being made at a gas station, the boys arrive at the dark, boarded up hulk that corresponds to the address on the paper. The unlocked front door easily swings open. Sam calls out Frank’s name, but there’s no answer and seemingly no one home. Until a lamp switches on and the boys turns to find a seated Frank holding a pump action hand cannon on them. “Well, well. Spider caught some flies.” When they tell him Bobby Singer sent them, Frank gets up out his chair and wakes up the gimpcalls Zed puts one in the chamber. “Or not! Who?” Sam hastily mentions Port Huron, and Frank is vexed – vexed! – at being reminded that he owes Bobby for saving his life. He reluctantly stands down and gets to work shredding every fake ID in the cigar box of false identifies. Security footage of their doppelgangers’ dirty deeds plays on multiple computer screens around the room. Frank crows that their place as the second most wanted men in America is the “quickest climb up the charts since Donna Summer.” He suggests that Cuba is nice this time of year, but the boys aren’t running. “We just need you to get us further off the grid, but keep us on the board.” Frank drills them in their new reality. Ditch the aliases. No more greatest hits of mullet rock. “It’s Tom and John Smith from now on.” Switch cell phones early and often and stick to a cash only economy. No plastic. Avoid being picked up on a camera. “You see a place that even looks like it can afford security, you just ease on down the road.” Then he smashes Sam’s Mac (Nooooooo!!!) and hands him an inferior PC replacement. That’ll be $5,000. Cash.

By morning, the boys have two new passports and an assortment of law enforcement IDs. Frank gives them a map marked with the places the Leviathans have hit so they can see the pattern. Trust him, there’s a pattern. “There is no such thing as a random series of robbery/murders by your evil twins.” Good luck, God speed, have fun storming the castle. He sends them off with one parting piece of advice.

“At least have the common sense to ditch your car.”

Dean radiates fury as they drive through the night in an abomination that is not the Impala. “You know, it’s bad enough that they’re ganking people wearing out mugs, but now this?! Got us driving around in this caboodle while Baby’s on lock down!”

Yes, Dean is aware of the reference. “Swayze always gets a pass!” Damn right he does. Sam tries to alleviate his brother’s mood by turning on the radio. And then this happens.

And hey, you know what the best part of being almost a year behind on recaps is? The season’s DVD gets released and this is one of the extras. Again, special Emmy nod to Jared for not breaking character or dissolving into tears of laughter.

Dean (and Jensen) is singing it from the hair. The very fabric of Sam’s reality is unraveling right before his eyes. His Lucifer hellucinations aren’t even this horrifying. Hee! Sam switches off the radio and an uncomfortable silence settles on the car. He returns his attention to the map, and then he sees it. Jericho, CA – the woman in white. Black Water Ridge, CO – wendigo. Lake Manitoc, WI – dead boy in the lake. The big mouths are doing their very own live action rewatch of Season 1. Their next stop should be Nazareth, PAToledo, OHSt. Louis. I guess Show was going for symmetry. The Leviathans are indeed, at that moment, in Connor’s Diner. It’s the home of the best burgers in the STL, the sweet taste of which – sadly – Dean will never know again. LeviaDean takes a bite, considers his burger, and holds it up for emphasis. “He has one of these every day. And in his heart, he thinks they’re almost as good as sex.” He drops the burger back on the plate. “This. Is disgusting.” Sam pushes his own plate away. “Dead plants with creamy goo.”

“It’s like eating self righteousness.”

Preach, brother. LeviaDean can’t stand his human counterpart. “Talk about a hero complex. And he doesn’t have relationships. No, he has applications for sainthood. Oh, and he thinks he’s funny. Thinks he’s a damn comedian.” So, LeviaDean loathes Dean who himself suffers from self loathing … it’s like a never ending mirrored room of issues and angst! Sam counters that he’s got it worse with the “full blown bats in the belfry. It’s nothing but Satan-vision on the inside. I’m mean, how he’s walking around in a jacket with detachable arms is beyond me.” Again, preach it. LeviaSam had a brother with this many issues once. He ate him. “Of course you did.” LeviaSam has an idea. “Wanna trade? I mean, I’ll take Chuckles over Schizo.” LeviaDean looks down and then casts a side-eye at LeviaSam’s head.

“No, I like this one’s hair better. You can stay in the big one.”

I love you, Honey Bunny. I love you, Pumpkin. (Miramax)

It’s like a tent revival up in here. LeviaDean leans back in his seat and tells the teen boy sitting at the booth behind him to fire up his camera. The louche youth scoffs at him and goes back to his conversation. LeviaDean points the MAC-10 at him. They can’t reenact the diner scene from Pulp Fiction without a Tarantino.

Bobby calls the boys with an update while Sheriff Mills makes sandwiches. He’s still looking for something they can shoot at the Leviathans (from a safe distance), but cutting the heads off will slow them down. Until the heads grow back. With the big mouths having already hit St. Louis, the boys head for Ankeny, IA. Bobby gets back to work. Maybe Chet would like a little juice with his goo. Bobby attaches car jumper leads to Chet’s chains, but as he does, his bare arm brushes against Chet’s. The Leviathan is all like, ‘Hello DNA sample.’ When Bobby looks up, he’s staring back into his own face.

“It’s pretty dark in here. High school drop out. A drunk, like your daddy before you. Ooh … you and dad … that’s a can of scorpions. Your favorite singer is Joanie frikkin’ Mitchell?? Oh, Bobby. You are 10 pounds of sad in a 5 pound bag.” But somehow, underneath it all, Bobby still hopes. A tiny part of him thinks that – maybe – he could have something with Sheriff Mills. LeviaBobby belly laughs at the absurdity of the thought. “You’re not getting any older than tomorrow. Why do you bother?” Bobby has remained silent through the taunting, but finally, he picks up the machete. He asks if bizarro self is a Robert Browning fan. ” ‘A man’s reach should exceed his grasp.’ ” The big mouth rolls it around in his mind. “I like that. That’s actually lovely. After I eat you I’m definitely going to hit the library.” Bobby prepares to whack the head off again some more when something drips down from the floor above onto the Leviathan. Where it hits exposed skin it sizzles and burns like acid. As more of it falls on him, LeviaBobby howls in pain. Bobby rushes upstairs to find Sheriff Mills scrubbing the floor. Seriously? Seriously. They couldn’t have found a better way to introduce this plot point? I don’t care how into a dude I am, I’m not cleaning his house. Anyhoo, Bobby kisses Jody full on the mouth. Not the reaction she was expecting, but she’ll happily accept it.

The boys arrive in Ankeny in time to see the big mouths pull up in bizarro Baby. You will note Dean’s head turned the minute he heard the engine. Aww. This may be “all sorts of wrong,” but when this is all over, Dean is stealing those rims. Before they can move in, local law rolls up on them. The Leviathans watch it all from across the street. LeviaDean winks at himself as they drive away. The boys are locked up – separately – and Dean pleads with Sheriff Col. Saul Tigh for his phone call. Sheriff Tigh growls at him but gives in when Dean hits him with the puppy dog eyes. What’s a man to do in the face of such an assault? He’s not a machine! Well, he is … but you get my point. Also, kudos to Show for hitting three of my fandoms in as many consecutive episodes. I miss BSG. Tigh rings up Bobby on Dean’s cell and puts it on speaker. Don’t bother coming to get them. THERE’S NO TIME! “We saw them … they saw us. So, we are coming to get … us.” Bobby quickly tells him there’s a chemical they can use – sodium borate. It’s not as exotic as it sounds. It’s found in industrial cleaners. “Just look for anything with the word ‘borax‘ on it.”

“You want me to ‘Desperate Housewife’ these mothers?”

Trust him. It burns them badly enough to slow them down. “Bears. Borax. Beets. Burns. Battlestar Galactica. Got it.” Tigh stares at him through the bars like he’s grown an extra head. Oh, just wait (spoiler!). “Then, douse them, then get close, and then chop the heads off. And keep the heads separate!” Tigh snaps the phone closed and stares at it like it might grow two heads. “Borax? Decapitation? What kind of sickos are you and your friends?!” He walks away in disgust, but Dean calls him back. If he doesn’t find every last drop of Borax in the building, they’re all going to die. Dean is crazier than Tigh thought … until the sheriff comes around a corner and spies one of his deputies chowing down on one of his colleagues. Then he watches as his two deputies morph into his two prisoners. He walks back into the brig holding area and releases Starbuck Dean. Dean has a run in with LeviaSam and distracts him (read: gets thrown into a display case) long enough for Tigh to fill up a wastebasket with cleaning solution. He splashes it into LeviaSam’s face, and Dean takes his head off with a fire axe.

Sam is still shackled in a holding room. Rescue seems at the door, but that is not his brother. “I am Dean adjacent. I just want to let you know how much I’ve really grown to hate you and your brother since we’ve been wearing you. I just don’t get it. You could be anything. You’re strong. You’re uninhibited. You’re smart enough, believe it not. But you’re soo caught up in being good and taking care of each other! IT PISSES ME OFF! You’re wasting a perfectly good opportunity to subjugate the weak.” Sam snarks back, wondering if LeviaDean is going to kill him, “or is this some kind of ‘play with your food’ bull?” Actually, a little of both. Did LeviaDean mention that actual Dean thinks Sam is “nutballs“? Off his game? “I guess that’s why Dean never told you he killed Amy.” And there it is. That’s the stunned look of shock and betrayal LeviaDean was waiting for. Now he can eat Sam.

“You see, I like my meat a little bitter.”

Before he can take a bite, Dean kicks in the door, douses him with cleaner, and neatly takes his head off. “Wow. That felt good.” Sheriff Tigh uncuffs Sam and offers his help in cleaning up the mess. “Whatever I can do, especially if it involves lying about everything I just saw.” Dean gets down to business. The fact that Sam hasn’t moved and can barely look at him hardly registers. The FBI arrives the next morning, and Special Agent Morris is outraged that the bodies have already been released to a funeral home for cremation. “Per their living wills and religious requirements.” Hee! His partner, Special Agent Valenti, reminds him that no bodies means no paperwork. “Someone once told me that was a good thing. The good news still stands. This case is closed. Sam and Dean Winchester are dead.” The agents depart, and Tigh’s medical examiner daughter tries to make sense of what just happened. “Lying to the FBI, incinerating bodies, and this stuff? What the [hey now] is it, because it sure isn’t blood.” Agent Valenti would agree with her there. “It’s much more than blood.” There’s no need for Sheriff Tigh to explain. Out comes the big mouth full of teeth as Valenti ties up the loose ends. He checks in with the boss to report that the doppelgangers’ heads are missing and the actual Winchesters are still alive. The boss is not wearing Jimmy Novak’s face, as I assumed (hoped) he would be. No, the boss is some trim, blow dried suit who answers to the improbable name of Dick Roman. Valenti apologizes and offers to reboot the mission. Grab some more DNA for LeviaBrothers 2.0. Dick nixes the idea. “Sometimes, less is more. Those boys coming back from the dead again starts to strain credulity.” HAH! Oh, Show. Dick prefers a subtler approach. “Back to the vision board on this one. We’ll give this Winchester situation a good think.” And next time, call Dick with a win. “Please don’t make me bib you.”

Dick sends a minion off to fetch a latte – “Decaf, two pumps vanilla, and grab yourself whatever you want. My treat.” – and climbs into his SUV limo. He glances at The Economist and settles in with the business section of the paper. Crowley appears bearing a gift basket. It’s high time they met. They should be friends. Synergy! Dick’s not buying what the King of Hell is selling. “I’d sooner swim through hot garbage than shake hands with a bottom feeding mutation like you. You demons are ugly. Lazy. Gold digging whores. You’re less than humans, and they’re not good for much ’til you dip ‘em in garlic sauce. I’d never work with you, Crowley. In fact, if I wasn’t busy with better things I might actively wipe your kind from the face of the universe. And you’d deserve it. Am I clear?”

Crystal. Keep the muffins.

Dean pops the hatchback on the beater that isn’t Baby, and regards the two bagged LeviaHeads. “Are you sure you want to dump these things? I’m thinking they might actually come in handy down the road.” Sam doesn’t answer. He stares straight ahead, glowering into the gorgeous golden afternoon sunlight. It’s Dean’s turn to ask what’s wrong with Sam. He wants to know. You know his motto, “Here to help.”

“Like you helped Amy?”

Sam grabs his bags from the back of the car. He can’t talk to Dean, he can’t even be around him right now. Dean lets him go without an argument. “Sorry, Sam.”

Supernatural moves to Wednesday at 8:00 p.m. on The CW. The new season returns on October 3rd.

2 Responses

It’s tough to stay fresh after 7 seasons – most shows start getting creaky around the 5 year mark. And I will admit as I’m going back through this season that some of the episodes were just okay. I think Sera Gamble did a good job of stewarding the show post-Kripke’s 5-year plan. When the show is firing on all cylinders it can still knock a story out of the park. I’m excited though to see what Jeremy Carver brings to the table. He was with the show in the beginning, so he “get’s it” but he’s been away long enough to bring a fresh perspective.